


The Quiet After

by Threshie



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artificial Intelligence, Blue Blood (Detroit: Become Human), Cover Art, Dead Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gen, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson Swears, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Podfic Welcome, Self-Sacrifice, Temporary Character Death, The Stratford Tower Chapter (Detroit: Become Human), references to suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 17:44:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17833178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie/pseuds/Threshie
Summary: Connor gets himself shot in the back protecting Hank at the Stratford Tower and dies instantly. Hank stays with his body until someone comes to collect it, but what he thinks of as his fallen partner is just more spare parts to CyberLife.





	The Quiet After

  


* * *

  


The crowds had cleared. Forensics teams and swarms of other professionals had come and gone, all concerned with collecting the bodies of the officers who had died in less than a minute in that hallway.

All of the bodies but one.

If not for Connor, Hank would have been riddled with bullets like the others. Seeing what the deviant had been about to do, Connor had pulled Hank down to the floor and shielded the man with his own body. It was over in seconds — seconds. Hank was halfway through a sentence, telling Connor he was lucky he was there, when he caught sight of the blue blood blooming from bullet holes in the android’s back. He’d rolled Connor over and a glimpse of his face said it all — he was already gone.

Gone, just like that. As if that wasn’t fucking unfair enough, nobody cared but Hank. He’d called in what happened to Connor and the officer who answered said she’d note it on the paperwork and to just leave him on the floor — that CyberLife would send somebody to “clean it up.”

There was no way in hell Hank was leaving Connor on the floor. Android or not, this was his partner, one who has just traded his life for Hank’s.

If Connor was there he’d probably be confused why Hank cared, too. And he didn’t give a fuck. Nobody said he couldn’t move Connor, and nobody was going to call him off to more work right after this massacre in the hallway. Hank turned Connor onto his back, carefully scooped him up from the floor, and carried him to a nearby office to wait for CyberLife. Connor had just died for him — the least Hank could do was see that his partner’s body was treated with some goddamn respect until it was collected.

Connor had a slender build, but it was still surprising how light he was. His body felt strangely fragile in Hank’s arms. He took care to place the android onto the table slowly, supporting his head, folding his hands across his stomach neatly.

It was then that Hank noticed the blue blood on Connor’s left hand, along with a stab wound that went clean through his palm. It had to be caused by a knife blade. His tie was missing, too, and the front of his shirt had been torn open, blue blood staining the white fabric and hem of his dark jacket. There was no mark on his stomach, but the blood had to be his — the deviant hadn’t been injured.

Whatever the hell had gone down in the kitchen, Connor had been hurt before he took those bullets for Hank. He didn’t hesitate for a second, though, to dive into harm’s way for his partner.

Hank sat on a chair in front of the still android and folded his hands, resting his chin against them. Connor’s usually-flawless hair was disheveled, a mess of dark bangs flopping down over his forehead. His eyes were peacefully closed. The LED on his right temple was dark, still.

Dead. Connor was dead.

And Hank felt sick.

He hadn’t wanted to admit it to even himself, but Connor reminded him of Cole. Not the sweet little boy he’d lost, but the man he might have become someday. Hank hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to his son, either. It was over so fast, just like this.

“I bet you wouldn’t get it, Connor,” Hank told the body on the table bitterly. “Bet you’d…just stare at me and point out you’re only a machine, again. Well, a machine would’ve done its fuckin’ job and attacked that deviant. Saving me wasn’t a machine move, Connor. I bet you knew that, though, right?”

He looked at Connor for awhile, not because he expected an answer, but because he probably wasn’t ever going to see the android again once CyberLife took him away. Hank hadn’t known Connor very long — days, had it really only been three fucking days? — but Hank could tell immediately that he wasn’t just some autonomous robot.

Connor had been child-like, in a way. He’d been curious about things, was always looking at things, was doing anything he could to show Hank he wanted to be friends. He’d made more effort to be a good friend and partner than any human had bothered with in the past few years.

And now he was gone.

Hank wasn’t sure what compelled him to do it. He reached out and started to smooth Connor’s hair, straighten his shirt, button the buttons back up. Connor was dead, and he didn’t care, but Hank had to do something. He had blue blood on his hands from carrying the body, but that was okay — Connor’s shirt was already bloody. There was a pool of the stuff slowly spreading on the table, too, from the bullet holes. Connor didn’t need it anymore, so what the hell, why even bother to mop it up?

This was an android, Hank reminded himself. He shouldn’t be getting so damned worked up over a fucking piece of plastic with a face. He could tell himself that all he wanted, though, and it wouldn’t stop the pain in his chest or the lump in his throat. Connor wasn’t some cookie cutter robot with a face he’d seen a thousand times — he was different. Individual. There had been a person in there, not just the imitation of one.

Hadn’t there been?

“Fuck you,” Hank told the body, eyes stinging. He didn’t want to care, but he did. He’d almost shot his own dumbass self dozens of times, and then somebody had to jump in and get shot saving him. What kind of sense did that make?

“I don’t even have a picture of you,” he told Connor, bitter and choked at the same time. “What am I supposed to do now, pretend you were never here?”

He had no doubt that everyone else would. Things would go back to the usual at the police department, and this android investigator experiment would probably be over. Connor, for his heroic sacrifice, would be considered a failure.

The sound of a door opening caught his attention, and he looked up just in time to see two white-clad androids follow a bored-looking woman into the room. She was dressed business formal in a pencil skirt and tiny cropped gray jacket over a white blouse. Petite, blond, mid-thirties. The little glowing CyberLife nametag she wore said Patricia.

“Wow, didn’t expect anybody to still be here,” she remarked dryly, stepping up to look Connor over with absolutely no concern on her face. “Worried we’ll send the DPD the bill if the merchandise goes missing?”

Hank stood, shrugging.

He had no way to explain the truth, so he just said flatly, “Somethin’ like that.” He was half surprised they’d sent someone human and half annoyed they were referring to Connor as merchandise, even though technically he was.

“Well go home already,” Patricia the CyberLife lady said, making a shooing motion from him toward the door. To her android assistants, she added, “Pack it up and let’s go, I’ve got other things to do with my day.”

Hank crossed his arms and ignored the order, standing there while the androids brought out a large bag and shoved Connor into it. The loud impact of his head against the table made Hank cringe.

“Hey, watch it!” He snapped at the androids. “Don’t you care if you damage him worse?”

“Not really,” Patricia said mildly. “At this point all it’s good for is spare parts.”

Hank had no comment about that. He could do nothing but stand there as they crammed his partner’s body into the bag. It wasn’t like a human body bag — it was half the size, more like a trash bag with a zipper. Hank had seen garbage treated with more care, though.

The hands he’d so carefully folded on Connor’s stomach were bent backward now, and they had to practically fold him in half to fit him into the space. His neck was probably snapped, head sideways or maybe laying on his own chest. Every clunk on the table, every whine of cracking plastic was like a slap in the face. Connor was walking and talking hours ago.

These androids were just doing their jobs. They weren’t programmed to feel empathy toward other androids or humans. Still, Hank felt like punching them in the face, and it took a lot of restraint not to say anything while they worked.

Much like Connor’s death, the body collection was over fast. Patricia retreated back out the door without a backward glance, the two androids following and carrying the lumpy bag, and all that was left was a large smear of blood on the table, slowly dripping blue stains into the carpeting. Hank still felt sick, but now he was pissed off, too.

Connor was nothing to them. Spare parts, she said. Giving his life to save Hank didn’t matter to them, having an obvious personality beyond a bland programmed pleasantness didn’t matter. Connor didn’t matter, not to anybody but Hank. It was too late to tell him that, though.

The cop stepped silently out of the room and toward the elevator. He needed a fucking drink.

* * *

  
Hank needed answers. Not just for the case, but about androids — about how they became deviants, why Connor had seemed to have his own actual personality…

If Connor had been a person.

That was why Hank volunteered to be the one to go speak with Elijah Kamski, the inventor of modern androids. On the drive there he kept kicking himself for glancing at the passenger seat and expecting Connor to be sitting there.

And then there he was.

He wasn’t suddenly in the car, but it was almost as shocking. There Connor was, picture perfect in his jacket and his tie, hair neatly combed and LED glowing blue. He was standing just outside of Kamski’s house when Hank pulled up, waiting for him.

Stunned, Hank climbed out of the car, slamming the door, and came to stand in front of the android.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor greeted him earnestly, “Good morning.”

“What the hell is this?” Hank asked, waving a hand at him. “You got shot dead right in front of me, and now you’re back like nothing happened?”

“My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed,” Connor explained, “But Cyberlife transferred its memory and sent me to replace it. This incident should not affect the investigation.”

“Affect—” Hank cut himself off, jabbing a finger against Connor’s chest. “You even remember what happened to get you killed?”

Connor looked troubled by the question.

“A little memory is lost each time I’m destroyed,” he admitted. “I don’t remember the moment it happened, but I do remember that I was thinking about protecting you from the escaping deviant. You’re here and I was destroyed, so I would say I was successful,” he added almost proudly.

Hank wanted to tell him to fuck off and storm away, but he just couldn’t. This was a completely different body, but it was the same memories — it was the same Connor.

The android’s brown eyes widened as Hank grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled him closer, wrapping him in a hug.

“Thanks,” he managed gruffly, “For doing that, Connor.”

A dumb robot would have just stood there. When arms looped around Hank in return and patted his back gently, he was convinced — Connor wasn’t just a machine.

“I’m glad I did. There’s only one of you, Lieutenant.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! I wanted to explore how one of the Connor death scenes in the game might play out for Hank after the investigation was over, and settled on Stratford Tower because of how Connor can die protecting him. Looking at Detroit: Become Human's timeline, it's pretty amazing how much Hank and Connor change each other in the course of about a week's time. I love their interactions so much. ♥
> 
> I'm brand new to making DBH fanworks, so I have no idea who-all will actually read this, but hopefully somebody will enjoy. This is my first shot at writing Hank, so I hope I did him justice. Comments and kudos always appreciated!


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